


Street Rats

by EideticMoose



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Smut, bottom!Ryan, top!brendon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2021-04-14
Packaged: 2021-04-20 01:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21935929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EideticMoose/pseuds/EideticMoose
Summary: Ryan Ross is a budding alt fashion journalist. On his first day at Street Rats Magazine, he's faced with either ending the year on covering the International Alternative Fashion Festival in Germany or being fired. If this job wasn't hard enough, then making out and falling for your Boss is. Plunging his professional and personal life into anarchy
Relationships: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Kudos: 7





	1. My Company Only Has The Best

I don't have much time to react when my coffee falls over onto my laptop, rendering any of my saves utterly destroyed. I stare at the brown liquid seep into my keyboard cracks for a moment, only a second to silently cry. I grab as many paper towels as I can, throwing them on the spill, then pulling my laptop from the wreckage. It's alive just enough for me to press print on my paper before freezing up. I'd cry, scream and probably throw myself of the nearest ledge if I weren't exhausted and already running late for my first day. Ahhh, I'm a beautiful train wreck. 

I grab my article piece, my hopefully only temporarily broken computer and keys before rushing to the nearest bus stop. Which the one I was supposed to take disappears down the street. I quickly text the office, profusely apologising about everything. I'm possibly the biggest idiot, my first day at my first proper company and I've absolutely fucked it! Street Rats was an up and coming magazine for everything alternative. My piece would be the initiation into the world I desperately wanted and instead of handing in my piece I am sitting at a musty bus stop with what looks suspiciously like vomit beside me.

I arrive ten minutes too late, hurrying in I'm greeted by a bold alternative girl. She looks amazing and I could see her as a plus size model for an article, her hair neon green with something bewitching about her style.

"Hi Ryan! I'm Katelyn, I know you know your a bit late but just know that the whole clock time thing is more of a suggestion so you're really chill as long as you show up at some point and hand in an article on time," I nod along as she begins to walk down the office. It's a large open space like an empty industrial building. It's almost insane, the artwork on the tall concrete walls and the collages of people they've worked with.

He almost catches me off guard, standing there with what I presume a model going over the shots for a piece. Brendon Urie, the creator of Street Rats. He was an amazing journalist, photographer and all around gorgeous man. I stop in my tracks, looking over to him. Katelyn grins.

"Ahh, I'll introduce you to Brendon in a sec," my face heats up but I keep following her to my desk. It's kind of alien compared to the desks around it that's are covered in moodboards, plants and all around crazy shit whereas mine is a blank canvas. "Okay this is your desk, you can drop your stuff off here and we can go hand in you debut article, also heads up. Don't be upset if it's rejected. Almost everyone's first piece is, but unless it's a clusterfuck he's pretty chill," she says as I organise my piece. Only eases my anxiety by about nothing.

We both walk up to Brendon and he smiles when he sees us. 

"Well, well, well..." he says, wrapping his arm around Katelyn's shoulder and looking me up and down like fresh meat in a piranha tank.

"H-hi I'm Ryan," I quickly fumble my sheets, even though I just organised them out of pure anxiety. I hold them out and he happily skims the first couple sentences.

"Hey Ryan, I'm Brendon. I'll finish reviewing you piece in a sec. Just want to talk to you for a sec," he hands my article off to Katelyn, muttering about taking it to his desk before turning to me. She runs off and despite being in the middle of the Street Rats' office, it seems private. "So as you know we're going to be covering the alt fashion show in Germany, which is quite cut throat. Only the best will be coming and the worst will be fired, and my company only has the best. This is probably going to be the most difficult year of Street Rats and as the new kid it's probably going to be the toughest job of your life. Most of the people here have been journalists for at least a couple years now... but at the same time I'd hate to have to have to fire you on your first year. So I'll go a bit easier on you, but that easy will be your worst fucking nightmare. Got it?" My throat dries as I stare at him, afraid that he'll be able to see that I'm about to shit myself. I just nod and he smiles at me. "Now after all that, I like to get to know my 'employees', and don't worry I'm anti-capitalist. Eat the rich kind of shit. That's why you get full healthcare cover, parental and medical leave,"

"Oh umm, I don't know what to say. I guess I'm kind of boring," Brendon just shakes his head, wrapping his arm around mine. He leads me down the street Rats office, on a sort of walk... in a very weird park.

"Ryan, believe me when I tell you. There is not a single boring person on the planet. Not even babies, and they quite literally have not done anything in their lives but be born,"

"I have a dog,"

He smiles almost laughing "is owning a dog the most interesting thing you've ever done?"

"Probably,"

"Or are you just not comfortable opening up to me quite yet. Or maybe you genuinely can't think of anything,"

"A little of both," I tell him and he sighs.

"Well I guess it is my goal to find out what makes Ryan... not boring,"

"So you admit that I'm boring," we stop just in front of my desk.

"The only thing I will admit is that you are stubborn," I chuckle and Brendon tries not to back, very terribly might I add. "See you later, maybe even tomorrow after work for drinks," I pause. Like.... 'drink' drinks? Or just drinks?

"Uhh, yeah sure," we smile at each other one more time and Brendon returns to his desk.


	2. It Means Nothing

Brendon was not lying when he said it was going to be tough, although Katelyn had told me my piece was going to be rejected didn't mean that it doesn't hurt. I packed up my laptop, my research for my next topic ran a little over time and with the laid back working times, I was the only one left.

"Last one out the door too?" I jump at his voice, looking over my shoulder at Brendon all huddled up in layers. 

"Yeah, my piece ran a little longer than I expected," I said, wrapping my scarf around my neck.

"That tends to happen, you get so into the zone that you're unaware of the time. I can not begin to count the number of times I've seen the sunrise on accident," I politely chuckle, checking my watch just to be sure I hadn't done that. 11:47... yikes. "... but, we still have time for a drink if you're still into my offer?" I check my watch one more time, I lived alone with absolutely no commitments with my family, and my dog at my childhood home. It was Wednesday but this job would be fine with me arriving at 4 and leaving at 4:01. I'm sure that my old habits would've died in the years I haven't drunk anything.

"Sure, one drink couldn't hurt?"

**

Well, I wouldn't admit this to anyone but me thinking that my old habits would die hard was very naive. From what I remembered it was fun, drinking, playing darts and messing around with Brendon but after that, it's a little fuzzy.

I sit up on my bed, tangled in the sheets with the smell of vomit coming from somewhere, which I suspect might be my own shirt with how it lays crumpled at the base of my bed, although I'm not going to check that out just yet. My brain bulges against my skull as if the bastard thing is trying to somehow escape but not the worst hangover I've ever had to deal with. Only coming with slight dehydration that I commend drunk Ryan on. The concerning part is the sheets next to me, bundled in such a way that someone had to have pulled them off. Still warm. The only thing I can feel is utter dread slamming into my stomach like a bullet train at full speed. I quickly check, my underwear is still intact and the chances dramatically drop, drunk Ryan wouldn't have had the coordination nor the care to put them back on. I stand up, pull on last nights jeans, regret the decision to do it so fast and walk out into my apartment.

Brendon's there, his back facing me and I can't see any back-scratching which I can sometimes do if I get too into it. It's almost scary how gorgeous one person can be, the tone in his back with the dip of his spine disappearing into his briefs. He turns around and is quite shocked to see me awake, holding two coffee mugs in his hands.

"Oh you're up, I made you a cup and I couldn't find any aspirin. I thought you'd might like that with how hard you were going last night," Brendon says as he hands mine over, I happily accept the cup. 

"Yeah, thanks. But of an awkward question but, did you sleep in my bed?" I watched as Brendon bit down on his lip.

"Yes but nothing happened, don't worry. You, however, seemed very... adamant on me coming into your bed. I was going to get up after you passed out but you gripped me like a bear," 

"Oh..." I'm silently praising the son, the father and the Holy Ghost that nothing happened, that would make life a hell of a lot more awkwa-

"You did kiss me," - What now? 

"Oh my god, I am so so so sorry," I bury my face in my hands not sure if I want to burn that memory from my hazy mind or recall it just to see if I sexually assaulted my boss while drunk.

"It's okay, don't worry. It wasn't that big of a deal," 

"Yeah! It's not like we made out or anything..."

"Oh no we definitely made out, it was like a full session behind the bar, which I am pretty surprised you don't remember because you were very into it," hmm, a quick mental reminder that I need to google 'how to fake your death and move to Australia'. It must've been obvious that I was having an existential crisis because he laughed.

"Ryan, don't worry we were both a bit drunk. I mean you were fucking wasted, I had to hold your hair back as you threw up in a toilet. It means nothing," call me crazy but there was something about the way he acted when he said it meant nothing. Like it was almost defensive... did he like it? I just awkwardly laugh. "I did prove you weren't boring, we literally performed together," if he wasn't here right now I probably would've cried myself into a depression with how much I lost control, he seemed to think it was funny. It's funny when you don't know my track record of getting out of hand. 

"Yeah... sounds crazy," my voice hits all the wrong points of what I was trying to sound like. Which Brendon picks up on thankfully.

"Maybe we should just get a coffee next time we hang out. Less chance of a make-out session?" It's good to know that he takes it in his pride, I've already cringed myself through how I would die in a fiery building explosion as I recreated a new identity.

"Are you sure you even want to hang out with someone who drunkenly made out with you again?"

He takes a gulp of coffee, leaning back onto my counter and grinning. "Contrary to popular belief, people who drunkenly try and make out with me are the only people I hang out with,"


End file.
